Somebody please kick me out of bed.

I lay in bed this morning for a full 30 minutes, trying to convince myself that I should get up. 

That I could get up. 

That I would get up. 

And I would run. 

That was really the hard part. 'Cause had you asked me to get up for coffee, I'd have been on it like white on rice. And once I was out the door, it was a glorious run.

So why is it so bloody hard to get out of my very comfy, warm bed when it is followed with the thought of running? Why can't I just get out of bed, head toward the coffee maker, and just before hitting the magic button, yell, "Fooled ya!", thus scaring the crap out of myself. With my heart racing, I could claim to be awake enough to run. Or at least too awake to go back to sleep.

So, I'm thinking I need an elf. They're quite wee, from my understanding. Which, of course, means they eat and shit less. It could live behind the coffee maker, and jump out at me first thing in the morning, scaring me so badly that I'd have to go for a run to calm down. Presuming I don't pee myself after having an elf jump out at me.

Are real elves as big as Elf On A Shelf? Or do real elves use doll house furniture? Would an Elf On A Shelf with a motion detector be able to tell me to go for a run? 'Cause they're kinda creepy. That may be cheaper than trying to sort through the immigration papers of elves. Particularly because, like small ankle- biting dogs, I imagine elves are loud and needy. Especially with things like food. And fair wages.

California

I can not fully express my excitement or gratitude right now.

I am ridiculously excited because...

drum roll please...

I'm going to Cali to visit my sister!!!!!!!

Insert Temple of Doom heart removal scene in reverse. As in, the heart goes back in. 

It is then filled with joy. No, not the soap. The emotion is more viscous- at least in my mind.

So I was talking to someone the other day about how I constantly have these odd fantasies of alternate realities. For example, when I'm in a crowded place and frustrated about it, I love imagining everyone doing the dance to Thriller. I also have these Ally Mcbeal moments where I imagine something totally inappropriate/ impossible....

But I digress....

I'm going to Calli!!!!

I'm gonna run in the sun and put my arms around the necks of my nieces. I'm so excited I could pee. 

But you know I won't. 'Cause that would just be awkward. 
Plus, I'd have to clean it up, and I am too tired. (How's that for lazy?)

So now "all" I have to do is get through this semester.

Then... and I totes forgot to mention this awesomeness.... have fun with my best friend when she comes to town to get her fancy paper (AKA PhD). There will be running, eating, laughter, and beer, guaranteed.


And then.... 
California!!!!!


Did I mention that I'm excited?'Cause I think maybe I am.
Just a little.


So this is maybe not the Thanksgiving post you were expecting. It's not exactly the one I was expecting to write. I was thinking I'd mention something about how I am thankful for the opportunity to wake my sorry ass up before the crack of dawn to face a punishing workout in the freezing cold. Only it's not freezing cold. Yet. I thought about how I'd say I had to run uphill, both ways, in the snow, to get to boot camp (except that's a bold faced lie, which I hear is not nice). I thought about how I'd write about how thankful I am for my health, for the ability to run, and for sunrise.


Instead, you get
CALIFORNIA!!!!!!!!!!!
(Insert Pauly Shore laying on his belly, swimming freestyle in the dirt.) 

Long Run Ready?

Coach Sadist tried to kill us. 

Again.

Part of the fun of being an instructor is that I get a little intel on everything. And this morning when Coach Sadist said, "Oh, yeah, don't worry, this won't be very hilly; we just have that one little hill where I'll make them do front to backs...", I foolishly believed him.

Normally, I like hills. 

This week has not been normal, though. I'm not sure what normal is anymore. Does it exist? I'm not referring to the nursing school ideology of needing to be more descriptive than "normal", but more of familiarity. Nothing is familiar or constant right now. And if I slow down long enough to admit it, this new territory is really hard.

So I fall back on what I know; I work out more and harder; this physical pain is easier to deal with than the emotional. And I'm feeling the pain big time today. Normally I take a day off over the weekend. Not this week! We had a special boot camp Saturday morning and then TRX Sunday... Coach Awesome killed herself, Other New Super Sweet (But Don't Call Her that 'Cause She'll Kick Your Ass) Coach Whose Name I Haven't Concocted Yet, and me with that class! 

(We were feeling especially awesome this morning...)

So I was supposed to do a long run today.... My favorite workout.

I was supposed to bring reflective/ light up stuff to wear ('cause, you know, wearing black in the wee hours is oh so sexy safe!). And I was supposed to do something else that I totally forgot (and am forgetting again as I write this!). 

This having to function in the early hours business is tough!!

So after no days off, plus some stupid hard workouts, I believed Coach Sadist when he said no hills.

What I didn't realize is that he has hill-dar. He can't help it; if there is a hill in a five mile radius, he will find it. 

And make us run it. 

On repeat.

Excuse me while I go die.

Brain fry

Hello, friends.

It has been a minute. I think my brain rolled off my head, onto the floor and right out the door. Yes, like the  meatball.

Remember this?

My drug of choice: nursing school.

Seriously. 

Papers, tests, clinical hours, reading.... I can't finish all the reading. There aren't enough hours. Don't get me wrong, it is awesome. Especially since I've seen some very cool things in the hospital: a patient with an LVAD (a mechanical pump for his heart); I took care of a guy who the nursing team in the ICU didn't think would make it through the night (and saw him leave two weeks later!); I started my first IV and foley; I saw a pacemaker put in (the patient was awake and making jokes)... This rotation has been so amazing. 

Except for last night.

I won't talk about what happened in the ER last night.

Mostly because it resembled a certain scene from The Exorcist.

So maybe it was amazing in its own way.

But seriously.

I've been too busy to think about how badly my body hurts to even think about whining about it on a blog. Also? I have no brain cells left. (see fried egg picture above.)

But it does hurt.

Especially after yesterday. 

Who knew I could kick my own ass by sprinting??

Also, crying about how broken I am while I'm supposed to be encouraging others seems... wrong.

Except for today.

Today I am crying on the inside because my hammies hurt. Like can't walk (never mind run, which is what I wanted to do today) kind of hurt.

Someone pass me a box of Kleenex, please.

I made a list. It has no end.

I had this conversation this morning:

Quit being so paranoid.

Me: I'm not being paranoid.

Yes, you are.

Me: No, I'm not. 

Yes.

Me: Aaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuggggghhh! 

At least, that's what I wanted to say.

Instead: sigh.

I am not being paranoid. 

I am stressing the fuck out.

Yeah. OK. Boxes to pack, tests to take, papers to write, presentation to create, clinical to prepare for, work... 

Nope. Nothing going on here.

And, by the way, where, exactly, am I moving?

Oh, yes. Right.

Nope. Not paranoid. Just stressed.

Definitely stressed.

Barf. 

I hate that I can't focus on, say, the test I'm taking tomorrow because the number of things coming at me is making it hard to breathe. 

I've been lulled into stagnation/ crippled by a fear I can not describe.

I didn't know I had anxiety until this.

Last night: Yeah. I'll get up and rock the psychiatric meds list after boot camp. Then I'll make sure everything is in line for my policy journal. I won't need a nap; I'm going to bed early.

When I woke up at 3, I was ready. 

At 5, not so much. Which just makes me wonder:

What happened?

How could so much have changed in two hours?

Also? Why the fuck didn't I just get out of bed?

So now I'm procrastinating. 

Because that always helps with making the to-do list shorter.

I feel like my friend K, whose favorite way of eliminating the things on her to-do list is by losing it.

Only I can't seem to lose the damn list.

Big Week!

Wow.

Last week flew by.

I was going to post daily about how much I hurt, and life is so tough, and more dudes need to come top boot camp, meh, meh, meh.

Instead I did some awesome stuff at the hospital

(Awesome like start my first IV. It was more awesome that the lady had never had anyone get her vein on the first go and now she can't say that anymore. (Poor lady!)),

went to work,

went to school,

AND....

 was asked to be a boot camp instructor!

I am so excited I could pee.

So, yeah, just when I was going to post that I desperately need more dudes to come to camp because the girls at the front of the crazy train need faster people with so we'll be encouraged to run faster, four show up! 

I am super excited!

I love when new people come to camp.

It only takes one look at their faces to know what they're thinking. And to remind me of where I started, and how far I've come.

Except for the throw up part. 

I know what that feels like (hello, crew practice!), but am not used to the way it looks. 

So yeah. We made someone puke. 

And I think I saw another cry.

I'm all "it's OK" and giving back pats to the guy. 

Meanwhile, Coach Awesome is all "Yes! My job here is done! Seriously, you've made my day".

That sounds like a ringing endorsement for boot camp, right?

(hears crickets)

Please join me as I embark on this new adventure as a boot camp coach.

No worries, I'll still serve snark with a side of smart ass.

Just with a whole new perspective.

Monday is the devil.

You don't need to tell me it's Monday; I can feel it in every ounce of my being.

It totally doesn't help that the refrain "I don't like Mondays" is stuck in my head...

And you know that when you wake up with that "Oh- crap- it's Monday- and- I- actually- have- to- get- up- and- be productive" feeling that it's gonna be a rough ride...

And this morning's workout was  bit of a devil.

No, seriously.

"Escape from devil's basement" was its name.

It focused on killing me.

"I'm not dead yet! I think I'll go for a walk now..." was all I could think.

-That's from the Holy Grail, not my thoughts after R said she wanted to go run after the workout last Thursday. Crazy.

Today was one of those "I must be crazy to do this" kind of days.

Not crazy like 'I think I'll get a Brazilian wax", but more like "I think I'll get another Brazilian wax"- you know what you're in for, yet do it anyway kind of crazy.

I had lunch with my family yesterday. As sometimes happens with families, we started telling stories about childhood. My grandmother and her sister told stories about my mom and aunt. They were mostly about my mom, who could find trouble just by breathing. 

Like when she, as a toddler, shimmied up a laundry pole (the kind with 6 arms coming from the center) and was standing on top of the pole while a neighbor watched in horror as she took a step out onto the line. Somehow the neighbor lady caught her just as she fell. 

Or how the state patrol knocked on the door and asked my grandmother if she had a daughter."Why yes, I do. She's playing in the back yard" she replied. "You might wanna check that fence" he said. Turns out  the police officer found her playing on the expressway. She had crawled between and over the fences (there were two).

I guess what I'm saying is, crazy runs in my family.

Don't get me wrong. It starts out innocently enough.

Like when my cousin (as a toddler) rode on the outside of a three story escalator. It was in the mall, back when they had fountains inside. My aunt discovered cousin #1 was trying to eat a squirrel tail (what can I say? We are classy,klassy, with a "K".), turned around and saw cousin #2 going up the escalator. She ran across the fountain (as in, got soaking wet) and managed to grab her ankle just before she was out of reach. Crowds of people cheered and clapped. Having rescued cousin #2, she turned her attention back to cousin #1. (It was one of those days.)

Cousin #1 interjected here:

"I found a dead squirrel in the back yard. It was back when Papa and Uncle Johnny were sick. Mom and Dad wanted to teach me about death. So Dad and I buried the squirrel, said some words, and I remember Dad telling me not to dig it up...

But the next day I really wanted to know how he was doing.

And we were fixing to go to the mall, and I remember Mom calling me as I was trying to check on the squirrel. I was digging, and found the tail... I pulled on the tail.. And it broke off! I put it in my purse. I knew I had to hide it because I'd get in trouble...

I had one of those push- up pops, you know? I put the lid back on it and stuck it in my purse."

My aunt continued:

 "But it melted. She pulled that sticky mess out of her purse, with a squirrel tail attached to it, and was trying to eat it... And then there goes child #2 up the escalator!"

One of those days.

So my stomach hurts from laughing yesterday, and my thighs are screaming from this morning and all I can think is that I am so screwed today.

And tomorrow, for that matter.

I just hope today doesn't involve squirrel flavored push pops.